Called a mental health day today for Miss Jessica. She's missed only one day so far, when she was sick, and quite honestly, I think she just needed a quiet day when she's sitting at home, with no other older girls here, just relaxing, reading, watching television. Even though she only had four days this week, the weekend was just insane with constant activity. She's been coming home from school and having massive temper tantrums the past two days, plus it's been difficult to wake her up, and she's been complaining of a variety of different maladies (sore throat, upset stomach, sore knee, her bug bites hurt, etc). She's very happy at the moment, in her Hannah Montana jammies, her hair a wreck, and I made homemade corn muffins for her.
In other news, I have a bunch of housework type stuff to do - switching over Jessie's summer stuff to winter, figuring out if I have any mittens and hats left over from last year, vacuuming and mopping and scrubbing. I'm so wiped out all the time, a lot of the stuff has been woefully neglected as of late. But I'm momentarily energetic, so am going to do what I can before I decide that it's time to lay down and read.
Had my 12 week check up yesterday and heard the baby's heartbeat for the first time. I LOVE my OB appointments. I saw the same mid-wife when I was pregnant with Sam, and for every appointment, I brought a three year old Jessica. Bringing Sam is so much fun - he's so interested in all of it ("why you pee in a cup, Mama?"). The hospital is gorgeous, with a huge atruim and waterfall that he can throw pennies into, and the lab techs always give him two stickers when they draw my blood (which they do with alarming regularity - I've had it done twice so far, and have more bloodwork scheduled for the next appt). My next appt will be the 16 week one, and I get the super big ultrasound. We aren't going to find out the sex, Marc doesn't want to know, and since I'm totally not giving him a vote on the baby's name, I let him win this one ;-). I'm torn on wanting one sex or another - I want both for different reasons. I think it'd be great for Sam to have a brother, we have a really female dominated family, and another boy would be great for Sammy. But a girl... I love the thought of Jessie having a sister (not that she doesn't already have two sisters - but I'd like to have two daughters that are all mine - a sister she can share her whole life with, as opposed to just every weekend). Plus little girl clothes are cuter.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Monday, October 12, 2009
Sleepovers
Jess wanted a sleepover this weekend, so Saturday night, I invited my old neighbor Glennys to spend the night. We first met Annie and John (Glenny's parents) when we moved into the apartment below them just before Sam was born. Gradually, Glennys came to be just another member of our family - in fact, I believe that Sam thinks she is his sister. She's six months younger than Sarah and almost exactly a year older than Miss Jess - and from the very beginning, Jess and Glennys were bestest friends.
Saturday night, we went to a party at the synagogue for Simchat Torah, and when we came home, Marc put the girls to bed in Jessie's bedroom. They wore matching jammies, heard two stories read to them, and then (this was so cute), I told them to whisper to each other until they fell asleep. It was hard, because I kept wanting to go in and yell at them to go to sleep, but by quarter of ten, the whispers had quieted down, and they both slept great. It was Jessie's first real big girl sleepover - when it was just the two of them, alone in her bedroom, one on the top bunk and one on the bottom, whispering secrets and telling stories to each other until they drifted off to sleep.
They had so much fun, they did it again last night at Annie's house :-)
Saturday night, we went to a party at the synagogue for Simchat Torah, and when we came home, Marc put the girls to bed in Jessie's bedroom. They wore matching jammies, heard two stories read to them, and then (this was so cute), I told them to whisper to each other until they fell asleep. It was hard, because I kept wanting to go in and yell at them to go to sleep, but by quarter of ten, the whispers had quieted down, and they both slept great. It was Jessie's first real big girl sleepover - when it was just the two of them, alone in her bedroom, one on the top bunk and one on the bottom, whispering secrets and telling stories to each other until they drifted off to sleep.
They had so much fun, they did it again last night at Annie's house :-)
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Weaning - again
I hesitate to post on this - mostly because I don't like getting the negative comments (from anonymous, every time) about how ridiculous it is that I'm still nursing a child who's over three... but it's really a big issue for me, so I'm going to be brave. Let me say first that I loved nursing my babies, and never considered not doing it. My goal was strictly to get to one year, after that, if he had shown any sign of wanting to wean, I'd have been all over it. Jessie weaned on her own at seven or eight months, so I was grateful to not have to spend money on formula for him, and even at two, nursing didn't seem like a big deal. At three... I'm really ready for it to be done.
Weaning sucks. Weaning while pregnant sucks even more. I know this because I've been trying to do it for a LONG time and now that I'm 11 weeks pregnant, I can officially say that it's gotten significantly worse now that I'm pregnant. Between the actual physical discomfort that comes from anything that has to do with my breasts, and pregnancy hormones - the whole weaning process is filled with tears and rage and frustration - on everyone's part.
I've got Sam down to minimal nursing - and it really is minimal. He nurses to sleep (and it's quick, less than five minutes) and when he first wakes up. It's the waking up that's killing me. Because Sam's not a kid who wakes up sunshiney delighted to face the day - he wakes up groggy and mean. He's never happy about it - and always requires some quiet alone time nursing before he'll even consider not screaming. It's a good morning when he actually wakes up and gets out of bed to find me, a bad morning when he lays in bed hollering "MAMA! COME IN HERE!"
He sleeps fine thru the night, rarely, if ever, wakes up to nurse - it's just that every morning we have a huge raging battle of wills and it sucks unbelievably bad. Screaming, crying, begging, pleading, sobbing - and it's so physically uncomfortable that I just can't do it for very long. Couple of minutes, five, maybe ten tops. And that's nowhere near enough, as far as my stubborn little love bug is concerned.
The problem, if you ask me, is that I read a quote about how a nursing mother should no more count the number of times you nurse a baby than you should count the number of times you kiss your baby. So I always nursed on demand - and with colic and reflux, Sam learned early on that nursing was the only thing that made his life better. He outgrew the colic and reflux, and has a healthy appetite, is a confident, independent boy - but LOVES nursing. Nursing for us is so much more than food - he obviously doesn't need it for sustenance, but today - after he'd been screaming and sobbing and nothing was working, he finally just said "hug me please" and his big brown eyes were still brimming over with tears and he looked so lost and so sad, like he just couldn't figure out why I was denying him this basic expression of love and attachment - and then I, of course, picked him up, hugged him and held him, rubbing his back and he asked for breakfast. By the time Marc brought him in a bowl of cereal, I was a teary-eyed mess, crying and feeling like the worst mother in the world - he obviously isn't ready to give up nursing, and I went ahead and got pregnant, and now it's so physically painful and I can't do it anymore and it's breaking his heart... it was awful.
He hasn't asked to nurse all day - which is typical for him. He doesn't nurse at all during the day, it's just to go to sleep and then to wake up. I've tried everything, special drinks, distraction, encouraging a lovey, chocolate, movies, special time with Daddy - nothing works. I've even broken out the bottle and pacifier, thinking maybe he just likes sucking on something. I think we're just going to have to battle thru it. Nursing certainly isn't going to get easier, it's only going to get worse. As I get bigger, it's going to be more and more difficult, and I'm just praying that he'll outgrow the need.
I feel a little bitter - because I always thought that nursing on demand would result in this perfect nursing relationship, he'd stop on his own because he didn't need it anymore - but he turned three in July - and in his version of a perfect world, he'd have my breasts available whenever he wanted them. I did everything right - as far as the attachment parenting model is concerned - my only problem is that Sam didn't read the same parenting handbooks that I did. He doesn't know he's supposed to have stopped on his own - he doesn't know he's supposed to have just outgrown this because he knows that I love him and will be there. He's just a little boy - and doesn't understand why I'm so mean to him.
Yeah - pregnancy hormones are not making this whole process easier. Marc's on board, as supportive as he can be. He thought I was mostly crazy for continuing to nurse, but since it wasn't him doing it - and weaning was obviously not going well, he pretty much just stays out of it. But when asked, he tells me that I'm doing the right thing, that part of parenting is giving a little push out of the nest and that Sam needs me to encourage him to be a big boy. Or something like that - and I know that he doesn't need the nursing - I know that it's more a battle of wills and Sam's an incredibly stubborn kid when it comes to this. Once he accepts that I'm done for the morning (and that can take up to an hour of him temper tantrumming), he moves on and is fine all day.
But suffice it to say - my house is nowhere you'd want to be between seven thirty and nine o'clock every morning.
Weaning sucks. Weaning while pregnant sucks even more. I know this because I've been trying to do it for a LONG time and now that I'm 11 weeks pregnant, I can officially say that it's gotten significantly worse now that I'm pregnant. Between the actual physical discomfort that comes from anything that has to do with my breasts, and pregnancy hormones - the whole weaning process is filled with tears and rage and frustration - on everyone's part.
I've got Sam down to minimal nursing - and it really is minimal. He nurses to sleep (and it's quick, less than five minutes) and when he first wakes up. It's the waking up that's killing me. Because Sam's not a kid who wakes up sunshiney delighted to face the day - he wakes up groggy and mean. He's never happy about it - and always requires some quiet alone time nursing before he'll even consider not screaming. It's a good morning when he actually wakes up and gets out of bed to find me, a bad morning when he lays in bed hollering "MAMA! COME IN HERE!"
He sleeps fine thru the night, rarely, if ever, wakes up to nurse - it's just that every morning we have a huge raging battle of wills and it sucks unbelievably bad. Screaming, crying, begging, pleading, sobbing - and it's so physically uncomfortable that I just can't do it for very long. Couple of minutes, five, maybe ten tops. And that's nowhere near enough, as far as my stubborn little love bug is concerned.
The problem, if you ask me, is that I read a quote about how a nursing mother should no more count the number of times you nurse a baby than you should count the number of times you kiss your baby. So I always nursed on demand - and with colic and reflux, Sam learned early on that nursing was the only thing that made his life better. He outgrew the colic and reflux, and has a healthy appetite, is a confident, independent boy - but LOVES nursing. Nursing for us is so much more than food - he obviously doesn't need it for sustenance, but today - after he'd been screaming and sobbing and nothing was working, he finally just said "hug me please" and his big brown eyes were still brimming over with tears and he looked so lost and so sad, like he just couldn't figure out why I was denying him this basic expression of love and attachment - and then I, of course, picked him up, hugged him and held him, rubbing his back and he asked for breakfast. By the time Marc brought him in a bowl of cereal, I was a teary-eyed mess, crying and feeling like the worst mother in the world - he obviously isn't ready to give up nursing, and I went ahead and got pregnant, and now it's so physically painful and I can't do it anymore and it's breaking his heart... it was awful.
He hasn't asked to nurse all day - which is typical for him. He doesn't nurse at all during the day, it's just to go to sleep and then to wake up. I've tried everything, special drinks, distraction, encouraging a lovey, chocolate, movies, special time with Daddy - nothing works. I've even broken out the bottle and pacifier, thinking maybe he just likes sucking on something. I think we're just going to have to battle thru it. Nursing certainly isn't going to get easier, it's only going to get worse. As I get bigger, it's going to be more and more difficult, and I'm just praying that he'll outgrow the need.
I feel a little bitter - because I always thought that nursing on demand would result in this perfect nursing relationship, he'd stop on his own because he didn't need it anymore - but he turned three in July - and in his version of a perfect world, he'd have my breasts available whenever he wanted them. I did everything right - as far as the attachment parenting model is concerned - my only problem is that Sam didn't read the same parenting handbooks that I did. He doesn't know he's supposed to have stopped on his own - he doesn't know he's supposed to have just outgrown this because he knows that I love him and will be there. He's just a little boy - and doesn't understand why I'm so mean to him.
Yeah - pregnancy hormones are not making this whole process easier. Marc's on board, as supportive as he can be. He thought I was mostly crazy for continuing to nurse, but since it wasn't him doing it - and weaning was obviously not going well, he pretty much just stays out of it. But when asked, he tells me that I'm doing the right thing, that part of parenting is giving a little push out of the nest and that Sam needs me to encourage him to be a big boy. Or something like that - and I know that he doesn't need the nursing - I know that it's more a battle of wills and Sam's an incredibly stubborn kid when it comes to this. Once he accepts that I'm done for the morning (and that can take up to an hour of him temper tantrumming), he moves on and is fine all day.
But suffice it to say - my house is nowhere you'd want to be between seven thirty and nine o'clock every morning.
Friday, October 9, 2009
Day off from school
And hordes of children here, although all four of them are mine. Depending on your definition. And so far, things are going well, couple of conflicts. Jessie, Lilli and Sarah get along like most sisters - sometimes best friends and sometimes mortal enemies. More often than not, Jess and Lilli are together and Sarah is the one on the outside. Sam is much more likely to prefer Sarah to Lilli, so it mostly balances out, but sometimes it's just the three girls playing together, and then it's just a waiting game until Sarah gets really mad at the other two. Their personalities are all so different and they are just all far enough apart in age so that they don't mesh as well as I'd like them too. Sarah has already been banished to Jessie's room for some cool off time, and it's not even eleven o'clock yet. Going to be a long day....
Puked last night - just when I thought that I had mostly moved past the puking portion of the pregnancy... I'm used to feeling yucky, that's pretty much an all day thing, but the throwing up has (or had) pretty much subsided. But when I went to bed, I felt it coming and ran for the bathroom. Marc stood beside me and rubbed my back and then held me for a while until I stopped shaking. I hate throwing up. I mean, nobody likes it, and I suppose I'm better at it than most, but I still hate it. I hate the heaving sensation when my stomach feels like it's trying to turn itself inside out - but as an added bonus - I'd had a LOT to drink last night, which made it much better (possibly TMI - but really - drinking makes puking 100% better for me - everything flows better, if you know what I mean).
Eleven weeks today! YAY! I'm so happy, especially because I always get extra scared right around this time. I love this pregnancy - I'm so excited about the baby coming. I don't need an awful lot, I need to get a new dresser (for Jessie, I think - she's got so many clothes she needs a much bigger dresser than she has) and move hers to Sam, and Sam's for the new baby. Sam's is the perfect size for a changing table - I just need to buy another mattress for it. I also need a bouncy seat and a bassinette. I've got baby clothes from both Jess and Sam saved, so I'm not too worried about clothes, but I'll need to get onesies and blankets and burp cloths.
Still agonizing over names. Although agonizing isn't the right word - just still pondering. The boy's name is all set - Benjamin Alfred. The Benjamin part is just because I love that name, and Alfred is after Marc's grandfather. I'm still debating over the girl's name. I know I'm using Julianna - and think it'll probably be the first name. It's after Marc's cousin who passed away a couple of years ago, and his grandmother (Julie and Anna). But I'm really stuck for a middle name - any suggestions? I can think of lots of first names that sound great with Julianna as a middle name, but I love Julianna as a first name (Marc hates it, but again - he's not the one throwing up so I win this battle).
Puked last night - just when I thought that I had mostly moved past the puking portion of the pregnancy... I'm used to feeling yucky, that's pretty much an all day thing, but the throwing up has (or had) pretty much subsided. But when I went to bed, I felt it coming and ran for the bathroom. Marc stood beside me and rubbed my back and then held me for a while until I stopped shaking. I hate throwing up. I mean, nobody likes it, and I suppose I'm better at it than most, but I still hate it. I hate the heaving sensation when my stomach feels like it's trying to turn itself inside out - but as an added bonus - I'd had a LOT to drink last night, which made it much better (possibly TMI - but really - drinking makes puking 100% better for me - everything flows better, if you know what I mean).
Eleven weeks today! YAY! I'm so happy, especially because I always get extra scared right around this time. I love this pregnancy - I'm so excited about the baby coming. I don't need an awful lot, I need to get a new dresser (for Jessie, I think - she's got so many clothes she needs a much bigger dresser than she has) and move hers to Sam, and Sam's for the new baby. Sam's is the perfect size for a changing table - I just need to buy another mattress for it. I also need a bouncy seat and a bassinette. I've got baby clothes from both Jess and Sam saved, so I'm not too worried about clothes, but I'll need to get onesies and blankets and burp cloths.
Still agonizing over names. Although agonizing isn't the right word - just still pondering. The boy's name is all set - Benjamin Alfred. The Benjamin part is just because I love that name, and Alfred is after Marc's grandfather. I'm still debating over the girl's name. I know I'm using Julianna - and think it'll probably be the first name. It's after Marc's cousin who passed away a couple of years ago, and his grandmother (Julie and Anna). But I'm really stuck for a middle name - any suggestions? I can think of lots of first names that sound great with Julianna as a middle name, but I love Julianna as a first name (Marc hates it, but again - he's not the one throwing up so I win this battle).
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Apologizing in advance
One of my biggest pet peeves is parents of only children, excusing some indulgence or another by saying "Hey, I've only got one." Like having only one means you love him/her that much more than those of us who have more than one child. Just FYI - having more than one doesn't mean that you like them any less, doesn't mean you want any less to spoil and indulge and do whatever you can to make them happy. The only difference, as far as I can tell, is that it's not as easy to buy whatever the latest toy is, cater to their dietary needs or whatever else it is. I love and worry and agonize over both my kids, and I'm sure that I'll be the same way with the next one. It's perhaps not as easy to accomodate everyone, and there are times when one has to suffer to indulge the other one. When Sam is screaming and I say to Jess "honey, I can only handle one crisis at a time, you're going to have to wait" or when Jessie is sick and I'm holding her and rocking her sleep and Sam announces he's "rumbly in his tumbly" and needs food asap - he's going to have to suck it up and suffer a little. This doesn't mean that I don't feel enormously guilty, that I don't wish that I could be the very best parent all the time for both the kids - but the fact is, when you've got more than one, you can't be the everything everyone wants all the time. With just one - you've got a shot at being able to pull it off, or at least you don't have to balance completely equal needs and totally valid requests for attention and love. Nobody has to wait while the other one gets snuggled, for example, if at that particular moment he/she would like to be cuddled. When it comes to buying balloons or toys or special treats - when it's a matter of paying $10 for one child - or $40 to get each of the four kids something - it's a tougher decision - and WAY harder to say no. This doesn't, in any way, mean that it's easier to say no to four children than it would be to say no to one.
I'm a bit grumpy today - for no real reason. I'll blame pregnancy hormones, I guess, because that's always an easy excuse. But I've had a couple of people randomly say that to me lately "well, I've only got one" as though it makes it harder to be strict and tough and fair. It's not - if anything, from my perspective, having only one should make it much easier to parent. Looking back, having only one was a breeze. It wasn't always easy, but it was a lot easier than having two, and I'm sure having two is got be easier than having three. But I love having children, I love having a LOT of children, and wouldn't trade the balancing and the guilt for anything in the world. I just wish that people understood that you don't love them any less because you have more than one.
I'm a bit grumpy today - for no real reason. I'll blame pregnancy hormones, I guess, because that's always an easy excuse. But I've had a couple of people randomly say that to me lately "well, I've only got one" as though it makes it harder to be strict and tough and fair. It's not - if anything, from my perspective, having only one should make it much easier to parent. Looking back, having only one was a breeze. It wasn't always easy, but it was a lot easier than having two, and I'm sure having two is got be easier than having three. But I love having children, I love having a LOT of children, and wouldn't trade the balancing and the guilt for anything in the world. I just wish that people understood that you don't love them any less because you have more than one.
Mama - COME IN HERE!
First - the disclaimer - I love my boy child. I find him enchanting and funny and sweet and loving. He's my buddy, my constant companion, and truly, I can't imagine my life without him. BUT HE'S DRIVING ME CRAZY THIS MORNING. He's grumpy and demanding and imperious. He's been screaming whenever things aren't 100% to his liking (and that's been pretty much all morning). I'm severely limiting the amount of nursing (we're down to about fifteen minutes total all day and night) and he's just been fighting that hard all morning. Woke up and screamed until I went to get him out of bed (as if his legs were broken). Then cried until I let him nurse, cried when I stopped him, screamed and cried and hollered at me all morning long. I finally let him latch back on, and let him nurse for a few more minutes, then he calmed down (because it works like magic to soothe and make him friendly again) and then relaxed and ate a bagel. I keep wandering away from him and after a few minutes I'll hear the demand "MAMA - COME IN HERE!" and when I don't (because there's something off putting about obeying a three year old), he escalates into screaming. I'm going to drag him outside for a long walk, in hopes that he'll cheer up when exposed to sunshine and crunchy leaves to walk thru.
In other news... Marc's been home for the past two days with a wretched cold. Nobody else seems to be sick (although possibly Sam is coming down with something - I'd much rather blame it on him feeling sick to him just being impossibly spoiled). Jess is still content and happy at school. I went in to cover her lunch (every Wednesday, I do lunch coverage at school for her teacher) and she seems to be thriving. Sam fits in well too - she's plays really well with him at school and he loved going in to visit his big sister at school. She had dance yesterday afternoon, and seems to be much more into it this year. She's really loving it - I'm so glad about that.
Pregnancy is still whipping along, alarmingly fast. I'll be 11 weeks tomorrow, and next week, I have another appointment and more bloodwork. My appointment after that will be the big ultrasound - and I'm shocked that it's so fast. I always think of that as the half way point, and it's unreal that it's already almost here. I'm still unbelievably sick - have adopted several coping methods to avoid puking. The biggest one is frozen mint milanos. Just nibbling on one is usually enough to get my stomach under control. I still take the Reglan, although not as much as I'm supposed to. I don't like swallowing pills when I'm not pregnant and even though I know it's safe, there's something about it that I don't like, so I take it often enough to keep the worst of it at bay, but still feel pretty crappy most of the time. But my belly is getting bigger and bigger, and I'm loving every minute of it.
In other news... Marc's been home for the past two days with a wretched cold. Nobody else seems to be sick (although possibly Sam is coming down with something - I'd much rather blame it on him feeling sick to him just being impossibly spoiled). Jess is still content and happy at school. I went in to cover her lunch (every Wednesday, I do lunch coverage at school for her teacher) and she seems to be thriving. Sam fits in well too - she's plays really well with him at school and he loved going in to visit his big sister at school. She had dance yesterday afternoon, and seems to be much more into it this year. She's really loving it - I'm so glad about that.
Pregnancy is still whipping along, alarmingly fast. I'll be 11 weeks tomorrow, and next week, I have another appointment and more bloodwork. My appointment after that will be the big ultrasound - and I'm shocked that it's so fast. I always think of that as the half way point, and it's unreal that it's already almost here. I'm still unbelievably sick - have adopted several coping methods to avoid puking. The biggest one is frozen mint milanos. Just nibbling on one is usually enough to get my stomach under control. I still take the Reglan, although not as much as I'm supposed to. I don't like swallowing pills when I'm not pregnant and even though I know it's safe, there's something about it that I don't like, so I take it often enough to keep the worst of it at bay, but still feel pretty crappy most of the time. But my belly is getting bigger and bigger, and I'm loving every minute of it.
Friday, October 2, 2009
Good morning sunshines
I started taking Reglan, which is an anti-nausea med, and it's made an enormous difference. I feel a LOT better. I haven't taken it yet this morning, just because today I'm officially ten weeks, and am feeling a little insecure because that's when I miscarried. So I waited until I could really "feel pregnant" and I'm happy to report that the nausea is here full force. I think I'm safe to take the medication and feel better now. It's amazing what a difference it makes, I feel so much more like me. I'm actually doing stuff, cleaning up the clutter and making the house look lovely again. When it was at it's worst (the nausea), all I could manage was dishes and laundry - and even that was pretty haphazard and incomplete.
In other news... kids are both doing amazingly well. Sam, the other day, was sitting in the backseat quoting an old Johnny Carson interview with the director of Godzilla or King Kong (this is a Marc thing - Marc says it a lot randomly and Sam picked it up) "Monkey die, everybody cry." He says it in this odd little accent and it was adorable in an weird sort of way. Anyway, so he's back there, repeating over and over again "Monkey cry, everybody die" and making Jessie and Marc laugh. Finally he says plaintively "Mommy, how do you get things out of your head?" because he couldn't figure out how to stop saying it. Maybe you had to be there, but it was so funny. How do you get things out of your head? Don't we all struggle with that :-)?
Jess is really developing into this little personality. And as much as I hesitate to say this in front of her, because I don't want her to feel like she has no choice but to mirror me - she reminds me SO much of myself at her age. She dances to the beat of her own drummer. I watch her in social situations, at Hebrew School or at recess when I go in to cover her teacher's lunch break, and she's so confident and secure - but so not a joiner. She's in her own world, and happy there. It's not that she doesn't like the other kids, and I don't get the sense that anyone is mean to her or excludes her, but she's happier not being a part of the group. Whatever it is, she's just in her own little world, either taking care of someone younger (she does that a lot), or just doing her own thing. I worried about it for a while - why isn't my daughter popular??? But it's not that she's unpopular, she gets along fine with the other kids. They all yell hi to her when we're walking to the car from school, she hollers back with enthusiasm, she seems perfectly content, but really - she's not a leader. Not a follower either - she's delightfully just Jessica. Light years ahead of where I was socially at that age, I think I was much more insecure at her age, it wasn't until high school that I was really content with who I was and where I fit. She seems to be there already - and my only hope is that she always stays that happy with who she is.
In other news... kids are both doing amazingly well. Sam, the other day, was sitting in the backseat quoting an old Johnny Carson interview with the director of Godzilla or King Kong (this is a Marc thing - Marc says it a lot randomly and Sam picked it up) "Monkey die, everybody cry." He says it in this odd little accent and it was adorable in an weird sort of way. Anyway, so he's back there, repeating over and over again "Monkey cry, everybody die" and making Jessie and Marc laugh. Finally he says plaintively "Mommy, how do you get things out of your head?" because he couldn't figure out how to stop saying it. Maybe you had to be there, but it was so funny. How do you get things out of your head? Don't we all struggle with that :-)?
Jess is really developing into this little personality. And as much as I hesitate to say this in front of her, because I don't want her to feel like she has no choice but to mirror me - she reminds me SO much of myself at her age. She dances to the beat of her own drummer. I watch her in social situations, at Hebrew School or at recess when I go in to cover her teacher's lunch break, and she's so confident and secure - but so not a joiner. She's in her own world, and happy there. It's not that she doesn't like the other kids, and I don't get the sense that anyone is mean to her or excludes her, but she's happier not being a part of the group. Whatever it is, she's just in her own little world, either taking care of someone younger (she does that a lot), or just doing her own thing. I worried about it for a while - why isn't my daughter popular??? But it's not that she's unpopular, she gets along fine with the other kids. They all yell hi to her when we're walking to the car from school, she hollers back with enthusiasm, she seems perfectly content, but really - she's not a leader. Not a follower either - she's delightfully just Jessica. Light years ahead of where I was socially at that age, I think I was much more insecure at her age, it wasn't until high school that I was really content with who I was and where I fit. She seems to be there already - and my only hope is that she always stays that happy with who she is.
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